Ferrari Au VIN
by x Varda x
Summary: The first Ferrari might not have been a problem, but when several go missing, the team is called in to investigate. Gen.


**Title:** Ferrari Au VIN  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Neal, Peter  
><strong>Words:<strong> 1662  
><strong>Summary:<strong> The first Ferrari might not have been a problem, but when several go missing, the team is called in to investigate. Gen.

**A/N:** Wikipedia/Google are my friends. Thank you for all your lovely comments on my first fic! I'm still feeling my way around writing for this fandom. I went for Neal and Peter friendship this time.

Peter walked onto the 21st Floor with a grinning Neal in tow. He gave Neal a sidelong glance, "You're looking happy today. Good weekend?"

"It was great."

"Why am I suspicious?"

"Aren't I allowed to be happy?" He beamed at a female agent as she walked past pointedly ignoring him.

"A happy Neal Caffrey is usually one who's done something wrong and got away with it."

Neal's face fell and he sighed as he held up his hands. "All right, I'll be miserable if that pleases you and gets you off my back."

"It's okay."

Neal started smiling again.

As they entered Peter's office, he said, "But I don't want to know what you did." He quickly handed Neal a copy of the file already on his desk. "Here's a new case that came in over the weekend."

Neal flipped the folder open and raised his eyebrows at the photo clipped to the front sheet. "A Ferrari?"

"Stolen Ferraris, plural. NYPD flagged it up for us."

Neal turned the pages, scanning the lines and photographs and taking it all in. "Same MO every time."

Peter sat at his desk while Neal perched on the corner. Peter said, "Same make and model, all taken without signs of forced entry. The alarms weren't triggered and no broken glass or debris nearby. GPS was removed or disabled shortly after they were taken."

"Different Vehicle Identification Numbers. Different insurance companies paying out for the claims at nearly $200,000 a pop."

"Certainly not small change. Notice anything linking them?"

Neal narrowed his eyes as he skimmed the last few pages. "Aside from them all being the same make and model, they were all sold by the same dealer." He looked across at Peter, "Stolen to order?"

"I don't know, but something doesn't feel quite right about it." Peter sighed. "We don't have enough evidence to get a warrant, but a job vacancy just came up at the dealer."

Neal frowned and shook his head. "Oh no. I'm not getting my hands dirty."

"I think this suits your _questionable_qualifications. It's a sales position."

Neal smiled and closed the folder. "Now you're talking."

xxx

Peter cut Neal's anklet off in the surveillance van. Jones handed him the gold tracking watch while Diana looked on.

Peter said, "Remember, you're only to look around and see if there's anything suspicious going on. Don't get any ideas."

"I've got lots of ideas."

"Well, don't act on them, Neal. We're still not sure if they're doing anything wrong."

xxx

"All right, Mr Halden…"

"Please, call me Nick," Neal said to the female manager of the dealership. He gave her his best grin and she smiled back as she eyed him over her glasses. He had already thoroughly scanned her office, noting the locked filing cabinets and picture of a motion blurred red Ferrari adorning the wall.

"_Nick_, this is an impressive list of references."

Neal shrugged. "What can I say, people like me."

"If only they really knew…" Peter said under his breath back in the van.

"When can you start?"

Neal leant forwards in his chair and lowered his voice. "Whenever you want me to."

"I'll need to check your references, so until then you'll be out on the floor."

"Anything for you, Ms Anderson."

She also leant forward in her chair, "Please call me Paula."

xxx

"The Ferrari California, bringing a little West Coast to New York," Neal said to a man who appeared to be in his late forties looking over the nearest bright red car. "Top speed of 193mph, zero to 62mph in a mere four seconds." He opened the door with a loving caress along the edge of the frame.

The man got inside and held the steering wheel with a guarded expression.

Neal shut the door and smiled at him through the open window. "With multi-link rear suspension and a folding metal roof, it's sure one to impress the ladies in all weather."

"I'm not sure," the man said.

Neal crouched down so he could rest his arm on the open window ledge and look in the same direction as the man. He lowered his voice conspiratorially, "Did you know that this is the most aerodynamic Ferrari ever made? Proven by 1000 hours in wind tunnel testing."

"I'll take it out for a test and if it does everything you say it does, then you've got yourself a sale."

Neal smiled.

xxx

Half an hour later, the man was back and had a smile on his face that could rival one of Neal's.

"Congratulations, Nick," Paula said. "Now I can believe those references." She went to the filing cabinet and took out an envelope and tipped a couple of keycards out. "Don't look so worried, they go in the safe at the end of the day."

Neal made a grab for the envelope, but she held it tightly, not tightly enough for him to miss the feeling of a third keycard still in there. She handed him the two cards. "Take these out to the sales floor and I'll show you how to process the sale on the system."

xxx

Neal closed another sale before the end of the day, but there was no third keycard in the envelope that Paula gladly handed to him.

"Something's going on here," Neal said to his watch. "I'm going to stick around after closing, see if I can figure it out."

"Don't do anything stupid," Peter replied.

Neal said to Paula, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye."

Neal walked out of the open shutter, but then doubled back and snuck inside the showroom, crouching behind a car there and being careful to avoid the cameras.

"We have to go tonight," Paula said.

"It's too soon," a man Neal hadn't heard before responded.

"That new guy. I don't trust him. No-one smiles all the time like that unless they're hiding something."

Neal tensed and pressed himself flat against the door he was leaning on.

"It's easy," Paula continued. "We go get it, roll back the clock, respray and swap out the VIN. Nick will probably sell it at least five times this week."

Neal whispered into his watch, "Did you get all that?"

Peter responded in his ear, "Yes."

The man spoke again and Neal's heart lurched. "Is someone still here?"

"No," Paula responded. "They all went home for the day."

"I'm sure I heard something."

It was time to leave. Neal shimmied along the side of the car towards the exit, but there was nowhere to hide now that they knew he was there.

"Nick!" Paula said as she came round the back of the car. The man behind her was a good few inches taller than Neal and about twice as wide.

"Hi!" Neal said, standing up. "I thought I'd dropped my keys down here. You haven't seen them have you?"

Neal's eyes widened when he saw the gun tucked into the man's waistband. He turned and ran. The glass in the door he was approaching shattered as the gun went off, he felt the heat of the bullet skim past his upper arm. At least he thought it missed him, the adrenaline was making it hard to feel anything.

A car started behind him and he spoke into the watch breathlessly as he ran along the street. "Where are you guys?"

There were no alleys or open doors for him to take refuge as the car bore down on him. It was another Ferrari California, a bright yellow one. There was a sound of a very expensive engine revving up, then Neal saw yellow, swiftly followed by grey.

Neal dimly heard voices shouting nearby. "Stop! FBI! Get out of the car now!"

Then Neal realised he was facedown on the tarmac. He rolled onto his side and blearily watched as the man who had shot at him got out of the Ferrari to be cuffed and led away by Jones. Sirens sounded in the distance.

"Diana got Paula," Jones said. "Backup's on the way."

Neal saw polished shoes approaching him in his line of sight, then felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He blinked up at his rescuer. "Peter…"

"How bad is it?"

Neal frowned, now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he felt strangely breathless. "I'm not sure."

"The paramedics are on the way. You hang in there."

"Not going anywhere."

Peter took off his jacket and laid it over Neal. He supported Neal's head with both of his hands. Neal took a deeper breath and flinched.

"What is it?" Peter asked.

"Chest hurts a little. I think… my leg too."

Peter glanced along him. "Help will be here soon. So are you going to tell me what you did over the weekend?"

"I would… but I prefer my tenuous freedom."

"I could pull up your tracking data."

Neal snuffled a short laugh and winced. "Please… you look at it all the time."

Peter smiled. "Guilty as charged."

"I went to a gallery. Modern Art." Neal shifted a little.

"Stay still."

"You wouldn't like it. It was full of things like that washing pile - twisted twigs and bent bicycle wheels."

The ambulance pulled up.

"Hard to steal though," Peter said as she handed Neal's care to the paramedics.

Neal frowned in thought. "Not impossible."

"Now I'm giving you ideas."

The paramedics checked Neal over and after much prodding and wincing on Neal's part they declared him badly bruised, but not broken or bleeding. They offered to take him to the hospital for a more thorough exam and x-rays but he declined.

"I've got ice packs at home," Peter said. "And El makes a great soup when I'm ill."

Neal smiled lopsidedly at him as he limped to the car waiting to take them home. "Sounds like fun."

"Not many can boast that they got hit by a Ferrari and lived to tell the tale."

"Zero to 62 in four seconds," Neal said with wide eyes.


End file.
